


Intelligence In The Form Of Creativity (And Even Then It's Running Thin)

by KillJoy998



Series: No One Normal Chooses Their Family [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Except Steve doesn't know that, F/F, M/M, No one really cares, Steve's kind of adorably stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillJoy998/pseuds/KillJoy998
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve knew how pathetically unhealthy he was, just like he understood how art was the only thing he was good at- and even his sketchpad was looking awful these days- and so he quite clearly understood that he was so stupid. But... He was so stupid that he didn't realize no one really cared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intelligence In The Form Of Creativity (And Even Then It's Running Thin)

Steve knew he contained many issues within his body physically and healthily; he was allergic to practically everything that had the potential to be the slightest bit irritating, as well as having the worst type of asthma that the world could provide. He almost got allergic reactions from _breathing_ , it was that bad, which counteracted with the fact he could barely breathe in the first place due to his poor lungs; he was a sick teenager, and he was also used to it.

 

It wasn't something he was unable to cope with, as it occurred so may times during every single day, he couldn't _not_ be able to handle himself. However, his allergies and asthma, as well as so many nit-picking faults he held, all prevented him from indulging in the sports side of what his college offered. It wasn't that he didn't try—all he did _was_ try, he just wasn’t very good at the succeeding bit, especially not next to kids who were twice as tall as him who could afford to go to the gym 24/7.

 

So, he enfolded himself into the art side of the spectrum. It wasn’t exactly where he belonged in life, in his own opinion, really. It was just a hobby, something simple but satisfying that allowed his thoughts to trail off into specific, or a range, of ideas. It was natural to him, to be able to create breath-taking backgrounds of colours, or to connect all the little details together for a profile, or to just simply sketch objects. Whatever he felt compelled to do at the time specifically; he was a creatively dull person, quite honestly. But, again, he was okay with that. Very okay with it, in fact, as it seemed like the only course he was able to pass all on his own.

 

Because... Steve wasn't just pathetically suppressed from pure physical activities, he was also so mind-numbingly _stupid_. He could never keep up with the way Tony and Bruce passionately tossed phrases about the wonder of the world, nor did he even remotely understand the debates the two genius' held together about their specialist subject, which happened to be Physics. He didn't necessarily mind the fact that he could never have any input in these discussions, as he probably wasn't welcome either way... It was just, he wasn't able to keep up with _genius'_ , because he wasn't one. _That_ was okay. What wasn't okay was the fact that he couldn't get his head around simple mathematics, because he needed proof of why that particular answer was right, or if he even needed to know that later on. Everyone else could do that; Natasha, Clint, Pepper... They weren't stupid. Not like he was, at least.

 

\----

 

"Fuck yeah! Guess who just beat Tony's high score?" Clint hollered ecstatically, almost leaping out of his seat in pure joy.

 

Steve lifted his head slightly, only a fraction, his hands stable and light as he finished his prototype for his final project with a flourish. He needed this to go well, it was necessary for every little detail to be perfect. One tiny error could cost him that, quite honestly, well deserved grade.

 

No one else seemed to notice Steve's desire for a motionless lunch (he couldn't be knocked, _not now_ ), as a huge wave of screams and protests casted over his hunched over shoulder. The noise filled his ears and mind as Natasha's complaints and Tony's accusations flew overhead. God, couldn't they be quiet for just a few more moments? He was so close to finishing...

 

"Oi, birdbrain, cut it out! Let me see, what was it? How did you cheat this time?" Tony almost growled, wrenching the device out of Clint's hands, only to receive a gasp of faux innocence.

 

_Oh, please..._

 

"Hey! I am very capable of beating you without the need to cheat, thank you very much!" Clint exclaimed, eyes narrowed.

 

"Clint, calm down..." Bruce mumbled softly, his own attention clearly focusing on his books.

 

Steve thanked his God that at least one person there understand the want for peace.

 

"Oh, please, let him have his moment. You barely beat me," Tony snorted, eyes scanning the displayed number. "You know, I'm only a few tens away from Einstein."

 

_Einstein?_

 

"Oh, yeah? Bruce here is one ten away," Clint happily boasted, only to receive a knock in the ribs from the man himself.

 

"Quit it," Bruce almost snapped, eyes clouding with green.

 

Steve seemed to pick up on that; from the very first day he met Bruce, he seemed to understand this layer of a complete wasteland. He also understood Bruce's virtues, and why he kept choosing to isolate himself every time he felt like he was going to explode. He couldn't exactly blame him.

 

Natasha had stayed silent, he noted, but he suspected that was only because she deemed the challenge to have been childish from the very start.

 

For a few more moments Steve couldn't hear anyone speak up, but as he lifted his attention up high enough to catch everyone's awkward eyes, he realized they were all staring. At him.

 

"...What?" he inquired quietly, believing them to just be... Calculating? Evaluating? What?

 

No one gave him a response verbally, nor did anyone gesture it off in admission-- their eyes were all still pierced on his features, and he was clueless as to why. Just like he was clueless to everything else.

 

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "Seriously, what?"

 

He paused, dropped his pen on his sketchpad, and then lifted his sleeve to wipe at his face consciously. However, once he spotted the equally confusing looks being given to him, he suspected all the staring wasn't to do with anything that could've been on his face. Right, okay. Then it was definitely something just to do with him.

 

"I don't _understand_ ," he expressed almost pathetically.

 

No, yeah, definitely pathetically. If Clint's amused snort was anything to go by.

 

Was it really that funny? Was he really just some joke to the rest of his group? His _friends_? Were they his friends? He genuinely had started to believe that they were; they met up every spare minute they had, gave each other so much support everyone else believed them all to be mad. Yes, they fought-- so _much_ , God, he had lost count over how many silly arguments occurred between them. But it was familiar, it was content... And _Tony_ , for Heaven's sake. He loved him, no one would ever be able to persuade him otherwise, and they were dating. Officially. Tony had announced it _himself_ , so why should he be doubting the reciprocated love? They were his goddamn family, and if his goddamned family laughed at him whenever he wasn't around, especially if they gave up hiding it to pursue such an act _with_ him around then... Then he really was stupid.

 

"You know what?" he broke the silence with such a weak, quiet rhetorical question, "I don't... You should've told me. I would have appreciated it so much if you had told me."

 

He averted his gaze back down to his sketchpad-- his _awful_ sketchpad, and started to gather his belongings into his arms. He'd find somewhere quiet, somewhere to finish his project, somewhere that wasn't here, for their sake, he guessed.

 

But... As soon as he rose from his position, he had worried and shocked faces looking up at him like a bunch of lost puppies... And, well, he didn't know what to do with that.

 

"Steve..." Tony started carefully, and Steve could hear the sheer fear in the way Tony had supplied his name.

 

Nothing else followed, and no one else picked it up, and so Steve resumed in turning away, into actually getting some work done, only to be stopped with a chorus of voices calling after him.

 

" _Steve_!"

 

It was rather amusing, actually, in a weird kind of way. He turned around slowly, only to see everyone in the cafeteria staring at him gormlessly. He swallowed thickly, tightened his hold on his possessions, and slowly but surely started to back away. To which Tony must have taken that as a challenge- because when doesn't he?- and rose from his seat dramatically. Oh God...

 

There was a pause in which everyone's attention was now on the billionaire, and then...

 

"It's beautiful, Steve," was, eventually, what Tony must have settled on starting with.

 

...

 

"What?"

 

"The thing you were doing, with your pen-- The sketch. You hate it. It's beautiful," the genius elaborated, in a way that wasn't technically explaining anything further, but at least Steve knew what he was on about.

 

That was a start, right?

 

"It's dumb," Steve passed it off awkwardly, tilting his head in a way that hopefully conveyed how awkward he felt in that moment.

 

It felt like everyone he had ever met in his life was in that exact cafeteria, with their regard completely on them. He hated attention...

 

"So are you," Tony snorted--

 

And that, and _that_ , was what had finally pushed him over the edge, what had actually caused him to _cry_. In public.

 

They weren't noticeable, he could happily bet that no one had actually noticed, except from Tony. His boyfriend had mastered the art by now.

 

" _But_ ," Tony interjected hastily, and so very casually closed the gap between them, "But I don't care. _We_ don't care."

 

'We' clearly meant his _friends_ , as Steve almost laughed at the comical chorus' of 'huzzah' from their table. _Their_ table.

 

"Smile for me, Rogers," Tony whispered softly, for only them to hear, eyes scanning Steve for extra insecurities, but he found none, so _very_ close to making the already small space between them disappear.

 

And so Steve smiled.

\----


End file.
